Wheelchair Dancer challenged me the other day. She challenged me to find the joy in disability.
My first reaction: NO WAY.
The emotions that cascaded over me as we sat over coffee included emergency-room fear, frustration with the process of getting back into shape from zero yet again after another winter of difficult breathing, worry about what the future will bring and the family I support, despair over the knowledge that illness will recur, though I don't know when.
Today, I went out for a run after sitting in traffic for 2 1/2 hours on the way back from the office. (It's my disability off-season. The lights are dark, the performers are elsewhere.) I started out slow; my back was stiff and my legs felt heavy.
As usual, I noticed the gimpy, the asymmetrical; I saw those who were struggling for whatever reason. Here or there eye contact; a small nod of recognition.
And I found, for just a moment, the joy. Today, I can do this. The weight room has given me strength, running has given me stamina; my back loosened up and my legs found lightness and I was, simply, running, a runner, wind off the East River cooling my face, my body meant to move across the miles.
Thank you, Wheelchair Dancer. Thank you for inspiration.
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A friend of mine, a triathlete, has had a series of nagging leg and foot injuries and is now on crutches. In NYC. Brings back my own memories of six months on crutches in NYC, and eighteen months of PT, and three years from injury to running again. And my doctoral supervisor, yelling across the office about patience, and the rate at which nerves regenerate. Injury and disability suck, but when your body cooperates, you appreciate it ever so much more.
ReplyDeleteI can hear him still. A good man, that.
ReplyDeleteThank you for our conversations, brief intense connexions.
ReplyDeleteHooray
WCD
but the most important thing it is to fight to getting back. It will take time but the fight is the best allie that you can have.
ReplyDelete